


Never Wanted to Leave

by TheDarkRat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arthurian legend - Freeform, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Song: Jenny of Oldstones, Violent Deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: High in the halls of Hogwarts, the castle is never empty. Even in the summer, there are beings who live there - the teachers, the house elves, the portraits, and, of course, the ghosts.





	Never Wanted to Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Jenny of Oldstones" from Game of Thrones, sung by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> TW: Nongraphic depiction of suicide. Nongraphic depiction of murder.

High in the halls of Hogwarts, the castle is never empty. Even in the summer, there are beings who live there - the teachers, the house elves, the portraits, and, of course, the ghosts. 

 

*****

 

Helena Ravenclaw laid on the leaves and bracken of the darkening forest. She had run away like a child denied a sweet. She had wanted her mother’s approval. She never realized she already had it. Her hand clutched her side, where her blood was freely flowing. The blade still embedded in her flesh. Helena knew she was dying and she cried. 

 

Her thoughts turned to her mother. When she was a child, her mother tending her when was sick. Teaching her magic. Even that last night before she ran, her mother had embraced her, probably already knowing what her unthinking daughter was about to do. Helena wished to have more time with her mother. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell her of the love she felt. She wanted…

 

Helena woke in the high aerie of Ravenclaw’s tower. Her mother on her deathbed. Helena watched, silent ghostly tears tracked down her cheek. Her mother, weak though she was, raised her head. 

“Oh my child,” she whispered. “I never wanted this for you.” She held out a trembling hand. Helena rested her own translucent one to her. “I love you. Remember that, my little eagle.” And with that, she died. Helena wept for ages and secluded herself in the high tower. Never again would she leave her home. 

 

****

 

Baron Blathmac, an east Irish Lord, stared down at the woman on the ground. He was a fool. Lady Ravenclaw had sent him to look for her wayward daughter. Had she Seen this? Did she know? He cursed himself again. They had fought, like muggles, with hands and fists, and then, blades. He had pulled his, in the heat of the moment. And now, there was only cold. 

 

He knew he could use his wand. But that would be too quick. He needed to suffer for his sins. So he drew the dagger from the still form of Helena. The blade, still slick with her blood, was pushed smoothly into his own breast. Penance, he thought. A life for a life. His thoughts turned to chains, to dungeons, to living for eternity in the knowledge of his actions. He did not deserve a restful peace. 

 

The Baron awoke in the dark, chilly Slytherin dungeons. His transparent form covered in silvery blood and clanking, heavy chains. As he floated upwards to the Great Hall, he saw Helena. And he knew. This was his penance. 

  
  
  


****

 

The moments before kneeling before the block were the longest moments of Nicholas’ life. He filled them with reflection. Now nothing else mattered, not glittering jewels, not fine silks, not commanding influence. Gone now are the days of Sir Nicholas deMimsey Porpington. 

 

He thought of his younger days. The days before politics took over his life. The days before he was ensnared by court life. Nicholas regrets much. He regretted he never made himself something more than just a second-rate courtier. Someone who could have improved the world, who could have made a difference. He remembered the halls of learning of Hogwarts. The cozy common room of Gryffindor. The axe struck him, and as he bled out, Nicholas wished to go back. 

 

He awoke in the red and gold common room. And he vowed to help those sorted here to avoid his fate. 

 

*****

 

When he entered the order, he took the vows more seriously than most. He gave up almost everything, including his name. He only went by Friar now. The church had called to him. Filled him with a joy and contentment with the Holy Word. So he dedicated his life to doing his Lords’ work. He traveled all throughout the English lands, over to Wales, and even to Ireland preaching and helping those in need. 

 

He had not forsaken magic, however. It was a blessing from his God. It allowed him to further His message and to do more good. But, this gift was his undoing. Someone had seen him conjure a fire, one cold night. This was added to another village claiming he cured their children of smallpox using only a wooden stick and words in Latin. 

 

The Friar was arrested for being a witch. They used a dunking platform to get him to confess. His wand had been broken and while he would perform wandless magic, he refused. He would not hurt the muggles. They were all God’s children. On the last dunk, weak though he was, the Friar lifted his eyes heavenward. 

“Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” 

 

And he thought of all the good he had been blessed with in his lifetime. The comforts of the school he learned in, the smells of freshly tilled earth, crisp herbs, and warm, baked bread, the warmth of the love of his fellow man. As his lungs filled with water, he wanted to prevent this from happening again. 

 

He awoke in the hall between the Hufflepuff common room and the Hogwarts’ kitchen. He knew he’d been given a new opportunity to educate and guide - a true blessing from his Lord. He would prepare all the students he could to love their fellow man, to forgive and forget, and to be kind. 

 

*****

 

Myrtle Warren was 14. She was just a child.  Thinking only child-like things. Crying over the casual cruelty of other children. The year had been stressful - puberty had started in full force - her skin had broken out in spots, her emotions were on a pendulum swing, her monthlies had started. She had few friends and none in her year. So when Olive Hornsby had struck true at Myrtle’s insecurities, there hadn’t been anyone nearby to comfort her. 

 

She ran to the bathroom on the 2nd floor. She cried long and hard. As her tears subsided, she heard a boy whispering. She was struck with a flash of anger - even her crying jag was to be interrupted. She opened the stall door, thinking nothing more of staying there until she was ready, to tell the boy off for interrupting - when a pair of bright yellow eyes filled her vision. 

 

She woke up in the stall she died in, thinking nothing more than staying there until she was ready to leave.

 

*****

 

The castle thought Peeves was a poltergeist. And he was. However, he didn’t start that way. In fact, in life, muggle Sir Percival was much more serious. A knight of King Arthur’s Camelot. The Fisherking told him not to ask - so he didn’t. But perhaps he should have.

 

The stories all say Knight Percival avenged his family and then went in search for the Grail. The stories are wrong. Against the Nine Witches and The Fisherking, he failed - he was tortured and went mad. He had only been one unmagical man, after all. He never stood a chance. The Nine Witches cursed him - to remain on earth until Arthur returned and the kingdom of Avalon reborn. Percival forgot everything in his madness. 

 

He died, alone in the Dark Forest, one winter’s eve. He awoke, above a great gathering of young children - all eating breakfast in a great hall. In his madness, he swooped down and began to throw rolls at the adults at the high table. Laughing and cackling, dancing in the air above the students. 

 

He waits, unknowingly, for the return of his king. Never wanting to leave, but never knowing why. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The song came up on my playlist earlier today and I was thinking about ghosts. Suddenly, this idea came about. 
> 
> For the four house ghosts, I haven't really changed any lore. I did expand a little on the Friar's though. The Harry Potter Wiki states "He was executed because senior churchmen grew suspicious of his ability to cure the pox merely by poking peasants with a stick, and his ill-advised habit of pulling rabbits out of the communion cup." But honestly, the second part of that is ridiculous. 
> 
> Also - AO3 doesn't have a tag for Sir Nick's full name. Rude. 
> 
> Peeves though, I have no idea where that came from. The Arthurian Legend doesn't have much on Sir Percival and he does interact with some sketchy people. So, there's that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Remember to review and Kudos!


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